Son

Following a wearisome few days of school life as a teacher, not to mention, parents' evenings and World Book Day (I dressed as Thing Two - Don't ask.), you can imagine my delight when I received a short text from my fifteen-year-old son which said, I could have my mothers' day present early. He had written a poem for me, and I could tell he was very proud of himself. 

Conscious that I needed to get my ACW blog post finished this evening for publication tomorrow (all I needed to do was take a few photographs), I arrived home at a fairly reasonable hour, changed into my pyjamas, and settled down, with a cup of tea, to read the poem. 

My planned post is now postponed.  I have decided to share this beautiful poem because you will appreciate it. It is appropriately titled: Mum.

Mum

When I was young, lying in bed.

I would lay down my weary head.

And listen,

To your many stories

Of tragedy, comedy, loss, and glory

Of animals, little boys, or big, scary trolls.

It came to life on your face,

Your voice, with so much soul.

Until I'd say, "One more! Just one more!"

And you'd give it your final send,

Are you ready?

"Yes!"

Once upon a time, the end!

So thank you, Mum, for sitting in the dark,

And reading for hours,"Nosark! Nosark!"*

For now, when I go to write, you're my creative spark.

So when you worry about leaving a legacy,

Think again.

Because I think you'll find it,

Sitting right here in my pen! 

ES

*Noah's Ark was ES favourite story as a young child.

Happy Mothers' Day.